Every time he shut his eyes, faces were all he could see. The faces of fear, hatred, anger, and even sorrow- each one flashed through his mind the faces of all those who met their deaths at the tip of his blade. Not one, he felt, deserved to live another day. They were cowards, the lot of them. They were monsters who thrived and prospered under the suffering, pain, and anguish of those crushed beneath their boots. Every experience, every contract, every operation had culminated to ...